The Fate of Heroes
by TheChronicler137
Summary: Three spurned lovers who have learnt to hate the word "change". One lonely demigod trying to keep a promise. And a mysterious boy who always knows who the gods want dead most. Roaming the seas and skies, aboard the Argo II, each with a different purpose, but all with the same goal: to strike down the enemies of Olympus, and claim the bounties on them. This is their story.
1. I Percy

I  
Percy

**A/N This story is co-authored with Indubitably Flummoxed, with a vast amount of assistance from KeyofNostalgia, for which I am immensely grateful. Special thanks must be given to Frozen Sunflowers in the Night and Penelope Lane Jr for allowing me to meet these two wonderful authors through their forum, "How to Survive the World: For Demigods". Special thanks, too, to Mandi2341 for her invaluable advice on this story.**

** This story was additionally inspired by Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag. I still wish Edward could've gone back to Caroline and lived a long, happy life with her.**

** The events described herein occur a few months after the end of the Giant War.**

Percy watched his foe with an ocean predator's eye, scanning for weaknesses, observing his smallest movements, watching for the slightest betrayal of an intention or a plan. The seasoned fighter processed and analysed every last detail in the blink of an eye, mapping out possibilities and planning counters with an ease and naturalness which paralleled that with which he breathed. He categorised his opponent's moves with lightning speed, distinguishing between blunders, feints and commits in less than a split second.

Blunder. Blunder. Blunder. Feint? No, blunder. Blunder.

Feint. Percy sensed him pulling back almost as soon as he had moved, segueing smoothly from a feint at his head to a committed attack aimed at his lower torso.

_Not bad. But not good enough either._

Percy deflected the incoming blade with ease, stepped close, and clamped the fingers of his free hand around his opponent's wrist in a vice-like grip. He twisted his arm until he cried out in pain and dropped his weapon, which hit the soil of the training arena with a dull thud.

With a brutal tug, Percy yanked his foe off his feet and towards him, balling the fingers of his sword hand into a fist around Riptide's hilt and swinging straight at his face. His opponent squeezed his eyes shut in fear, pulling back as far as possible, as if hoping to delay the impact, if only by half a second.

"STOP! PLEASE!" the ten-year-old trainee cried out.

Percy dropped his sword, and held out his newly-freed hand, stopping the boy from colliding with him.

He shoved him away roughly. The boy stumbled and fell.

"You were careless," Percy launched into the lecture before the boy had even gotten up. "Off-balance. Jumpy. You moved too much—"

"I didn't move…" the boy attempted to protest, as he got to his feet.

"Exactly. You weren't even aware of it. Every move you make must be intentional. Awareness is the first step towards control."

Percy continued. "You were too hasty. That was clearly a feint. You turned it into an attack well enough, though. You might have managed to take out a lesser opponent. But against one as skilled as me, or even more skilled, you'd already be dead."

Percy picked up the boy's sword and tossed it to him. The boy caught it, but his grip was clumsy and the throw was hard. He fumbled the blade, dropping it.

"We'll call it a day," he said to the class, capping Riptide and tucking it into his pocket.

A wave of muted chatter rippled over the demigods as they filed out of the training arena.

Percy walked over to where Annabeth was standing, leaning against the walls of the arena, arms crossed, with a troubled frown on her face.

Her expression almost made him stop in his tracks. He'd seen that look on her quite a lot recently, but whenever he asked her what was wrong, she would shake her head and brush it off as nothing. He'd tried asking Piper about it, but she, too, seemed distracted and troubled, and refused to answer.

Normally, he would have left it at that. If Annabeth didn't want to share a problem, she could probably handle it on her own. If she couldn't, he was the first person she'd turn to for help. Still, there was _something_ about the way she looked this time that made him extremely uneasy.

Nonetheless, he reassured himself that Annabeth could handle herself, and allowed his hardened warrior's look to melt into his more familiar trademark troublemaker smile.

"What's up, Wise Girl?"

Annabeth sighed. "Percy, we need to talk."

Percy blinked.

_Uh-oh_.

Irrational fear seized him. That was a break-up line.

Was Annabeth…dear gods, was Annabeth going to _break up _with him? The way she said it, he could almost believe it.

But the idea immediately seemed ridiculous. _Annabeth_? _Break up_? With _him_? She was the breath in his lungs, the purpose to his life. Every fibre of his being was dedicated to her. They'd been together through so much. He couldn't even begin to imagine being _physically_ separated from her again. The thought of being _emotionally _separated from her hadn't even crossed his mind once. It simply didn't seem even the least bit _possible_.

And he was certain she felt the same about him. He would never forget the look in her eyes when they were finally reunited after the he'd been kidnapped for months by Hera. Even as they plunged into and battled out of Tartarus, the only thing that mattered to her was that they stayed together. She was as in love with him as he was with her.

Even so, he couldn't think of any better explanation. And that made Percy really worried.

Nonetheless, he hid it as well as he could.

"Why? What's wrong, Annabeth?"

She walked over to a bench, sat down, and patted the place next to her.

Percy took his seat, and put his arm around Annabeth's shoulders, like he so often did.

To his utter surprise, she pushed his arm off.

And, in that moment, Percy knew for certain that something was very, very wrong.

He blinked. "Wise Girl?"

He tried sounding as optimistic as possible as he asked the question, dreading that he already knew the answer.

"Percy, I…you've…changed."

The word "changed" was like a fist to the gut. Somehow, the idea of Annabeth breaking up with him was actually starting to look possible.

_No, stop it_, he chided himself. _That's absurd_.

_But what else could she possibly mean by that?_

The question lingered uneasily, unanswered.

He stared at her. "_What_?" he asked, bewildered and nervous.

"That…that look in your eyes…you're not the same Percy I fell in love with. Not the same Percy I spent four years of my life fighting alongside."

Confusion spread over Percy's face, as panic began rising in his throat. "What are you talking about, Annabeth? Where is all this coming from?"

Annabeth frowned and shook her head.

"I'm breaking up with you, Percy."

Percy's jaw dropped. His eyes widened and the colour drained from his face.

"You…_what!?_"

"I'm breaking up with you. You've become cold, Percy. Manipulative. Calculative. What you did just now…he was just a ten-year-old boy, Percy! But I've only seen you get that look in your eyes while we were fighting Gaia's monsters."

Annabeth shook her head. "That was the last straw, Percy. You've changed. What you just did made it clear as daylight."

His worst, darkest nightmares had come true.

Annabeth was, somehow, against the laws of nature and reason, breaking up with him.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He wanted to deny it. To refuse to believe that she had said it. But he knew what he had heard. Pretending it hadn't wasn't going to help anyone, least of all himself.

Still, some part of him refused to surrender. Some part of him clung on to the irrational hope that he could somehow turn this around. And this part compelled him to try.

"But…Annabeth…all that time we spent together…the pain you felt when Hera kidnapped me…gods, Annabeth, we went through Tartarus together! Saved the freaking _world_ together! _Twice_!"

"And it's all changed you for the worse. I spent that time with a different Percy. I missed a different Percy. _You're not him_."

The son of Poseidon looked positively bewildered now.

"Wise Girl, what the heck does that even _mean_?"

"Don't call me that again, Percy."

"Annabeth!" he cried, shocked.

"_It's over_."

And, with that, she turned and left, as a completely stunned Percy fell to his knees, tears pricking at his eyes.

"Come back," he whispered softly.

"I love you."

And the tears began flowing freely.


	2. II Jason

II  
Jason

"Come on, Pipes!" Jason laughed in glee, as he sprinted over the meadow. "Keep up!"

Jason turned around, expecting to find his beautiful girlfriend Piper just a few metres away, running after him as quickly as possible. She would crash into him as he slowed down, allowing them to tumble to the ground, laughing in delight, and finally ending up with her lying on top of him, poised for a picture-perfect smooch.

_Perfect._

_Just like her._

A warm smile spread over his face just from thinking about her, but it quickly faded when he noticed she wasn't anywhere near him.

His sprint slowed to a jog, and his jog slowed to a walk, before he came to a complete stop, looking around for her.

"Piper?" he called, concerned.

He glimpsed her unexcitedly walking to the top of a hill which was at least a hundred metres away.

His smile returned as he jogged back to meet her, but the worry inside him brought about by her indifference quickly dissolved it. Something had been troubling her recently, but she wouldn't tell him what. There used to be a sparkle in her eyes and a smile on her lips whenever she was with him. It used to be that she'd want to spend every moment she could by his side. But now, she just seemed...cold. Tired. Distant.

And the worst part was, she wouldn't say why. He loved her with all his heart. That went without saying. And it was killing him to see her like this. But she refused to open up. Refused to let him help. And that hurt even more.

He'd tried asking around, trying to find out if her siblings or her best friend Annabeth might know something. All were unable or unwilling to answer.

What was it that so distressed her, and why wouldn't she tell him about it? The questions caused him constant unease.

Still, he maintained as gentle a tone as possible as he asked, not for the first time, "Piper, what's wrong?"

Piper sighed as Jason jogged up to her.

"Jason…can I say something?"

He heaved an internal sigh of relief. She had _finally_ decided to tell him what it was.

"Sure thing, Pipes," he smiled tenderly, then leaned in for a quick kiss.

Piper pulled away, causing Jason to stumble comically. He chuckled nervously as he recovered, but it died as he looked up and saw her expression. His heart sank. There was no laughter in her eyes.

"I'm breaking up with you."

Jason froze as he got up, and stared at her, mouth gaping. He _must_ have misheard her.

"_What?_"

"I'm breaking up with you," she repeated, firmly.

And his world came crashing down.

"Pipes…I…wha…"

His head was spinning from the shock. _Piper_? Breaking up with _him_? She'd had her sights on him literally from the first day they met. Even after she became his girlfriend, it always seemed like she was the one driving the relationship. It was crystal clear to within a kilometre: Piper McLean was absolutely _in love_ with him.

Their relationship had been difficult at first, but after battling side-by-side against Gaia and her minions, and finally vanquishing the evil goddess, he thought they'd worked it out. That they'd finally earned their happily ever after. And in the months after that, he'd grown even closer to her, and very deeply invested in their relationship. It – no, _she_ – no, _they_, the two of them – had become the centre of his life.

And now…this.

She shook her head. "Jason, I just…I just don't want to be with you any more, okay?"

Jason blinked. "But…wha…_why_? Isn't this what you always wanted, Piper? All through our first quest, you desperately wanted our Mist-created relationship to be real! And…and when we finally got together…you were so _happy_, Piper! What happened? What did I do wrong?"

Piper sighed. "You're too perfect, Jason. Whenever I'm with you, I feel trapped."

Jason shook his head, as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Every word of hers was like a knife to the chest. He could practically feel her pushing him away, and the pain which accompanied every inch of distance felt like it would kill him. "_What?_ But…how…what do you mean? Why didn't you mention this before? Pipes, if something I was doing made you feel uncomfortable, you could've just told me! Or you can just tell me now! Whatever it is, I'll change it!"

Piper scowled. "Look, Jason, I just don't want to be in a relationship with you any more, okay? You know…things change. People change."

She might as well have run his heart through with a spear.

"What does that even _mean_?"

Piper glared at him. "No means no, Jason! I'm not going to justify myself any further. I don't want this relationship anymore, so we're over. Done. Finished."

Jason was on the verge of collapsing on his knees and sobbing. "At least…at least give me one last kiss? A parting gift?"

"_No!_" Piper practically snarled at him.

And, in that moment, he felt his heart shatter.

Jason could only stare on in shock as Piper walked off.

He watched her as she returned to her cabin.

She didn't turn back once.

Jason's knees buckled, and he fell to the ground.

"I _hate_ change," he was able to whisper, before the tears took over.


	3. III Frank

III  
Frank

**A/N Terribly sorry for the delay, readers; a combination of my computer malfunctioning and my family taking me on a holiday set this one back quite a bit.**

"So, as you can see, esteemed praetors and fellow centurions, we are facing a very real – and very severe – shortage of supplies in all departments. The war with the giants has bled us dry, and no replenishment is forthcoming from any source," Hank, centurion of the Third Cohort (A/N This chap was actually named in Son of Neptune) concluded his presentation.

Reyna stepped forth, expression calm, austere and unreadable, as always. "Thank you, Hank," she said, as he nodded in acknowledgement and returned to his seat.

Addressing the others present, she said, "You've all heard the problem for yourselves. This camp doesn't run itself. We need funds, and we need them now. So, centurions, any suggestions?"

Silence.

She turned to her fellow praetor. "Frank?"

Frank frowned as he considered the options. The praetor's boots had, at first, seemed too big to fill. He was not used to having people obey his orders, not to mention being able to make decisions that could affect their lives to such a degree. But with Hazel's constant support, he'd been able to become more confident and grow into the role.

Ah, _Hazel_…where would he be without her? She'd stood by his side every step of the way. She had always been there for him. And all that had only made him love her even more.

_Whoa, don't get distracted_, he told himself. It would probably be a bad idea for him to drift off thinking about his girlfriend in the middle of a senate meeting.

"Well," Frank began, "we could ask the Greeks for help."

Relations with Camp Half-Blood had improved considerably following the defeat of Gaia at the hands of the joint forces of the Greeks and Romans. It would not be unreasonable to expect aid from them. Especially given Frank's close friendships with the leaders of the camp.

Nonetheless, murmurs rippled through the centurions. Roman courage, honour and pride demanded that they relied on external aid only in the most extreme of circumstances. Like the last war.

Also, the bad blood between the two camps hadn't faded away completely just like that. There was still lingering suspicion and resentment on both sides.

Instantly Frank realised his mistake, and felt a pang of guilt. He was as Roman as they came, but his time with his Greek friends had caused his first instinct to be to turn to them for aid.

Reyna stepped forth. She glared briefly at him, but thankfully did not give voice to the concerns of the other senators.

"The Greeks may be willing to help us, but they, too, have been affected by the war. They may have more funds than us, but not much. And we can't rely on them for help forever."

"Why don't we just get money the way we always have?" Dakota suggested.

"Through donations?" Hank asked. "We're already digging as deep as we can. It's still not enough. And, like Reyna said, we can't live off donations forever."

The senate fell silent with that. All present were deep in thought.

"It seems we are unable to produce a solution," Reyna's voice rang out, drawing everyone's attention. "Perhaps tomorrow will bring more ideas. Meeting adjourned."

* * *

Frank walked down to the cafeteria where Hazel was resting after her training. He was beaming as he walked. For the first time in quite a while, he was finally free to spend the evening with his girlfriend. He'd made reservations at the nicest restaurant in New Rome for the two of them. All that was left to do was to tell her.

He walked up to where she was chatting with some of the other legionnaires. His smile widened; he hadn't seen her in a while, having been preoccupied with his praetor duties. The sight of his girlfriend had always cheered him up, but the fact that this was the first time he was seeing her again after so long made him even happier.

"Hey, Hazel…"

She turned to face him, and Frank nearly jumped.

Her eyes blazed with anger as she glared at him. "Hey? _Hey_? That's all you've got to say?"

Frank paled. _What on earth…?_

"Hazel, I…"

"I haven't seen you for _days_! And this isn't the first time you've run off!"

Fear began rising in his throat. He was still too shocked and confused from her sudden and inexplicable anger to realise where this conversation was going, but he knew it was bad.

"Look, Hazel, if you'd just let me explain…"

"_NO_!" she screamed, as tears began running down her face. "We barely spend any time together anymore. I don't feel loved at _all_! You spend all day doing your praetor things. You never have any time for _me_! I feel so…so _aggrieved_!"

All around them, the other legionnaires had stopped talking and eating. Everyone's eyes were on them. But neither noticed or cared.

A bone-deep chill spread through Frank as he realised she might be about to break up with him. Part of him told him that was patently absurd. This was _Hazel_ they were talking about. She'd stuck by him through thick and thin. He trusted her more than anyone else in the world, enough to literally put his life in her hands. And they had struggled together against Gaia to save the world. How could she break up with him all of a sudden after all that?

But the rest of him pointed out that there was no other way to explain the things she was doing now. Frank had never seen her so enraged.

"Hazel, this is just a temporary stage. We're almost done restoring…"

"I've had _enough_, Frank! Which is more important to you, being a praetor, or being with me?"

A look of despair crossed his face. She had provided him with an impossible dilemma – he loved her with all his heart, but at the same time he had a duty to Rome. He couldn't just abandon his post like that.

They stood, gazes locked, both wordless. Hazel was sobbing, but her eyes were steel. Frank had an expression of trapped helplessness on his face, as tears threatened to flow from his eyes.

Hazel's lip quivered, and she burst into tears, running off.

Frank stared at her as she ran out, his mind still too shocked to figure out what just happened.

After a long, long while, he sank to his knees, as the other legionnaires looked on.

"I'm sorry, Hazel," he whispered.

"I love you."

And he began to cry.

**A/N To those accessing the site on computers, I have noticed – and am extremely annoyed by – the fact that the chapter number at the top of the page is misaligned. This is due to the way the page is laid out. Basically, the chapter selection dropdown pushes the number to the left. There does not appear to be a solution to this, so I'm afraid I'll just have to ask these readers to bear with this unsightly error. The number shows up fine  
on mobile, though.**


	4. IV Leo

IV  
Leo

Leo sat on the gunwale (A/N edge) of the _Argo II_, his legs hanging over the side. He swung them absently back and forth, staring out at the night sky. The moon hung full and bright over the camp, suspended in a sea of twinkling stars against the inky black of night.

But though his eyes were fixed on the moon, his thoughts were elsewhere. The moon always reminded him of Ogygia. Of the time he spent there. Of…of _her_.

Calypso.

Memories, images and sensations flitted past. The sound of her voice, screaming at him for ruining her beach. He cracked a small, rueful smile at that memory. Then a happier memory: the sound and sight of her laughing, suffused with joy. Oh perhaps, not quite happier – his heartache immediately grew ten times worse as that memory came to mind.

He pictured _her_, in all her mesmerising beauty. Though he'd tried to ignore and deny it, he'd noticed her attractiveness practically from the outset. He pictured her in red, in the outfit she wore when they had their first real conversation, the first one where they weren't both thinking that they'd be better off if they never saw each other again. The one where their relationship really started to turn around.

And then, finally, that awfully, wonderfully, bittersweet first and last kiss. Her lips were the softest, most tender thing he had felt since his mother's caress. And, through that kiss, although he'd refused to believe it at the time, he realised that she loved him.

And he loved her.

And, with that memory, he felt his heart wither and die. The pain overwhelmed him; he winced, turning away from the moon, and squeezed his eyes shut, pushing the tears in them down his face.

He had…_changed_ after meeting Calypso. His pluck, wit and humour had faded, replaced by a deep sadness and longing. Even after so many months, he still yearned for her. He'd become much better at hiding his heartsickness, to the point where even Piper was unable to detect it, but he spent every second he could researching Ogygia, trying all kinds of methods to get back, but all to no avail. He was coming close to exhausting all the surplus raw material he had access to, and had even contemplated pinching some material from the stockpiles reserved for the other campers, but none of it came to anything. Ogygia remained elusive.

All of a sudden, he recalled her saying, "_Seeing the past is simple magic. Seeing the present or the future—that is not_." The memory of the sound of her voice filled him with a deep pain that seemed to reach the very bottom of his soul.

But at the same time, his engineer's genius realised the significance of those words, and proposed an idea to him.

And he accepted it.

"Calypso," he said to the moon, voice heavy but soft.

"I know, someday, someday soon, you'll hear these words. Someday, you'll see me here, talking to the moon, wishing you were by my side."

He paused for a moment.

"Well, okay, that's not technically true," the engineer in him began speaking. "You'd be _able_ to hear and see me, but whether you _choose_ to do so or not…"

And then Leo the heartsick boy came back. "But I _know _you will. You love me. I felt it in that kiss."

That was a risky thing to say. He might come off as narcissistic…or might be wrong, and come off as just plain stupid. But then again, if he _was_ wrong, she wouldn't be looking at him. And she'd never know. So it wouldn't matter.

_Back on track_, he mentally slapped himself.

"And," he continued, "that was enough for me to make that impossible oath."

"_I'm coming back for you, Calypso_," the phantom memory of his own voice echoed in his ears. "_I swear it on the River Styx._"

Once again, if she really was as in love with him as he was with her (and he hoped with all his heart that she was), then she'd have watched him leave, and heard him make the oath.

"I…I love you, Calypso."

The words felt awkward in his mouth. But he had never been surer of anything in his life.

"I didn't realise what it was at first, but I know now. I love you. If nothing else, I want you to know that."

"The oath…I'd expected us to work it out on the way. 'Cause that's what happens to heroes, right? The hero beats the bad guy and gets the girl at the same time, and the two of them live happily ever after."

He laughed bitterly. "If only."

He turned and surveyed the _Argo II_, his "conversation" with Calypso having renewed his strength and determination.

"But even now, I don't regret making that oath," he said, turning back to the moon. "Not one bit. If I'd known things would turn out like this, I'd still have done the same thing. And I will do whatever it takes, Calypso, to keep that oath."

He felt a fire a within, and a spark that had faded in the months of tedium spent testing out his different ideas for returning to Ogygia sprang to life.

"And…you'll have to take my word for this, but I'm not doing this because I'm afraid of…whatever it is that happens to people who break their oaths on the Styx."

He wiped the tears from his face

"I'm doing this because I love you."

His gaze, intense, remained fixed on the moon.

"I love you."

And then, suddenly, he felt a hand on his left arm.

Leo yelped a curse and jumped in shock, attempting to pull his arm free, but the owner of the hand maintained his vice-like grip on him. The hand was cold and hard through the fabric of his sleeve, and when Leo glanced at it, he saw that it was covered with a black gauntlet of indeterminate material. At least, he thought it was black. It was difficult to tell at night.

The demigod quickly ran through the available options…or rather, tried to, because any thought of escape was immediately snuffed out by the presence of a Stygian iron blade mere centimetres from his throat.

Leo swallowed. Hard.

"Who-who are you?" he managed to whimper, utterly terrified.

But he somehow found it in himself to worry about what Calypso must think of him after hearing him whimper in such an undignified manner.

But before his mysterious assailant could reply or react, he was inexplicably yanked away from Leo. Leo turned to watch as Gauntlet Dude crashed to the deck of the _Argo II_ several metres away, having been shoved off him by another figure, this one wearing a dark-coloured hoodie and track pants.

Hoodie Dude, who was crouched low over Gauntlet Dude, had locked Gauntlet Dude's knees together with his feet, and was pressing a knee into his thigh. He had his hands raised over his neck and chest, and was attempting to push down, as though trying to stab him. Gauntlet Dude was, obviously, resisting, pushing Hoodie Dude's forearms back. The funny thing was, Hoodie Dude had his palms open, as though he expected to kill his opponent by touching him with the underside of his wrists. And Gauntlet Dude was acting like that was a serious possibility.

Hoodie Dude turned to look at Leo, and he glimpsed the fair-complexioned face of a teenage boy about his age within the hood.

"_Run!_" he shouted, before Gauntlet Dude managed to roll him off such that they were both lying on their sides on the deck, facing each other, about a metre apart.

Leo's senses returned, and he immediately proceeded to comply with Hoodie Dude's order, darting off the _Argo II_ as quick as he could, and proceeding to run for his life.


End file.
